Deadpool Gets Wasted
by Hannibal-Necromancer97
Summary: What's up? I'm Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool, and this is the story of the actual first time I died. That's it. Blunt, to-the-point, nothing else to report. Done. (Rated M for language, crude humor, and Deadpool as a whole.)
1. My First Time

Hi! I'm Wade Wilson, but you can call me, _[The Regenerating Degenerate,]_ _(Merc with a Mouth,)_ Deadpool!

First and foremost, those brackets and parentheses are my left and right brain, respectively. _[A pleasure to meet you.](Hey, ladies! Ring me up sometime!)_ They help me with problem solving and keep me company when I'm alone. _[Alone with our thoughts. Literally.]_

Anyway, I'm certain you expect this "fan fiction" to be about me on a zany adventure for shits and giggles, right? Guess what?

Fuck that.

 _[What we're actually here to narrate is the first time we've ever died.](Heavy stuff, really.)_ And no, this isn't that arc of the comics where I lost my healing factor*. This is me telling you about the first time we met  her. _(Hubba hubba.)_ And, frankly, the fuckheads at Marvel screwed up how that went down. Eh… Where should we start guys?

 _(Ooh! Let's jump right in to where we died and went straight to heaven! I love that memory.)_

 _[No, no, no. What we_ _need_ _to do is start some time before then and work our way towards it; give the reader a sense of what happened. Then we can get to the happiness.]_

 _(Laaame. Nobody wants to sit through three chapters of back-story for a paragraph of action. Let's get to the good stuff!)_

How about this? We'll begin our tale in the middle of a badass fight between me and the Avengers. That's about where it started anyway. _[That works for me.](Good stuff followed by better stuff? Count me in.)_ Good. Now, shut up so I can narrate this bitch.

/-/

I climbed off of the ground, springing away from Captain America's shield coming down at me. This is about two minutes after the fight started. Before this, I had been minding my own business, y'know, eating my lunch after killing some scumbag crime boss - I think his name was _(Tom?)[Gordon?]_ one of them - then, next I know, Iron Pants and Cappy come in and say something like "No, you're a bad man!" and start beatin' the snot out of me! _(Talk about rude!)_ Right? It's just business. _[Though our kind of business involves significantly more shooting and stabbing than most.]_ Eh, what're you gonna do?

Anyway, Cappy swings at me, I dodge, and Stark _[Spoiler alert! Tony Stark is Iron Man!]_ catches me off guard and blasts me into the dirt! "Oww… Look, guys," I said, lifting myself on my elbows and making a T with my hands, "can I call a time out?"

"Hm, let me think about that," Iron Man said, landing and "accidentally" stepping on my neck. "What should we do with him, Cap?"

"Fury's orders were to bring him into custody," the Captain said sternly.

"This guy's batshit crazy, Rogers," Stark argued. "He's too dangerous to bring in; if he gets loose on the Helicarrier -"

"He _won't_ get loose."

 _"I must agree with the captain, sir,"_ I heard J.A.R.V.I.S. say from Iron Man's suit. _[For you civilians, that stands for, literally, "Just a Rather Very Intelligent System." Stark is smart, but he's not too clever with names, clearly.]_ _"To defy Director Fury would almost be worse than if Deadpool were allowed to walk free."_

"And besides," I finally spoke up, "you can't kill me! I've tried many, many times." This was true to some degree. I did try several things that would normally kill me, _(Cancer's a bitch.)_ but I didn't do anything along the lines of, say, damaging my femoral artery, cutting my own head off, or jumping off a building. _[You see, we're actually pretty chicken shit about things like that.]_ I did, at one point, shoot myself, but I just blacked out. I woke up in that same spot not too long after. _(Our healing factor is ridiculous.)[And, like cancer, it's a bitch.]_ "Plus, good guys don't kill! …Do they?"

As Iron Man gave Cappy a look that said "You see what I mean," I had reached for my teleporter, zipping away to a high rooftop. As he began to have a fit at Superpatriot, I couldn't help but laugh. "Did you see the look on Iron Pants' face?"

 _("Priceless!")_ my Right Brain said. He's the guy who helps my audience understand how I feel when words just won't do. He's also the more resilient of my two half-wits.

 _["They don't seem to think it's so funny,"]_ Left Brain commented. He's the problem solver of our outfit; my center for logic and general smartypantsness. _[It's a word.]_

"Ah, let 'em bitch about it. Hey, are we hungry?"

 _["For danger or for food?"]_

 _("Either way, I'm starved! That fight took a lot out of us.")_

"Hungered, are thee?" said a voice in very old English as I turned to face him. "Very well, then. Taste of the might of Mjolnir!"

"Only if it comes with barbecue sauce!" I zipped away as Thor swung his trusty hammer, barely clipping me as I faded briefly from existence. I reappeared outside of a deli, and was sent spiraling at the wall. That little clip from Mjolnir felt like I got wrecked by a planet! _[Or a small hammer made of the cores of several hundred stars.]_ I broke through the wall and slammed into a table of food where a family had been enjoying lunch. A man, his wife, and their two kids looked - presumably in fear - as I got up and dusted myself off. "Howdy, folks!" I said with a smile. I pointed to them in succession: first the children, then the woman, then the man, saying, in that order: "Stay in school. Call me sometime. You could do better." I picked up one of their now-mangled hamburgers and took a bite, walking out of the restaurant. "Did I just live through getting whacked by a super hammer?"

 _["More like a_ _divine_ _hammer, but yes."]_

"Awesome." An all-too-familiar Vibranium-alloy shield cracked me across the jaw. It not only interrupted my sandwich, but it made me bite my cheek. "AGH!" I shouted. I looked to my left, seeing Cappy and Stark charging. I snapped my mandible back into place. "Okay, boys," I growled, whipping out my favorite machine pistols, _(Butter,) [And I Can't Believe It's Not Butter,]_ "You guys want a piece of me?" I took aim, raining lead at my targets. "Come and take it!"

 _["We could've said something better for that,"]_ Left brain quipped.

"For example?"

 _("Well, we were eating a burger, right? We could've told 'em to eat lead.")_

"Shit, you're right! Left Brain, remind me to write down a list of one-liners when we get home."

 _["Can do. But, for now,"]_ I dodged one of Iron Man's pocket-rockets, _["can we please focus on getting out of this in one piece?"]_

"I will settle for no more than two pieces," I agreed.

Cap'n 'Muricuh retrieved his shield, closing on me behind a wall of Vibranium that Butter's bullets weren't cutting through. I halted only to reload _[Not that it helped us much,]_ and that was enough to allow him to bash me. The impact against my face broke my nose and probably chipped a tooth. Then, he grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the sedan I was using as cover. He ripped off my teleporter belt _(Which we totally shoulda used,)_ and tossed it aside. "Whoa, buddy," I said, catching him with a swipe across the chest with one of my trusty katana swords, "Not 'til after the third date!" I kicked him away, then frantically bolted for my belt, which Iron Pants blasted away with his repulsor. "No fair!"

"Since when does Deadpool care about fighting fair?" Stark commented, aiming a high-power laser cannon.

"Since… Dammit, Left Brain! You're the smart one!"

 _["I've got nothing. Sorry."]_

"So, your brain's giving you trouble?" He fired, shearing exactly the wrong half of my head off. "That ought to fix it."

Stunned, I reached my right hand up, trying to pop the ringing noise out of that side. My palm hit white matter, which gave with a disturbing squish. _(_ _We_ _thought something was disturbing?)_ Without another word, my remaining eye rolled back, and I collapsed dead on the ground.

/-/

*See Deadpool: Dead


	2. Her

Now, it's a little bit of a misconception that I can't die and, of course, Marvel fucked that up as well. See, I _can_ die. I just don't _stay_ dead. _[Our own personal hell.]_ My healing factor brings me back after my blood is replenished and wounds are healed, but dying hurts like a motherfucker. At no point did I think I would enjoy dying.

But I did. A lot, as it turns out. _(After the first time or so.)_ Ooh! Speaking of which, I need to get back to narrating! Now, where was I? _[We'd just been killed after a kickass battle with Iron Man and the other Avengers bar Hulk.]_ Right, thanks.

/-/

 _ **"Wade Wilson, your time is up…"**_

I sat up in what appeared to be a void. And no, not one of those endless abysses outside of space-time, or the vast emptiness of outer space, I mean… I'm not actually sure what I mean. I was in my apartment, really, but outside the windows was perpetual white.

 _ **"Wade Wilson…"**_

 _("Who the hell is talking to us? Where are we?")_

 _["Seems like our place. But something's… different."]_

I looked around for the source of that chilling voice that kept saying my name. "Whoever it is that keeps sayin' that," I said, "The name's Deadpool. Maybe you've heard of me?"

 _ **"Yes,"**_ the voice said, _**"I've heard of you. Wade Wilson, age -"**_ _[Whoa! Reader doesn't really need that information.]_ _ **"- he was dying of cancer. The American 'Weapon X' Program took him in and saved him. He took the pseudonym 'Deadpool' for infamy in his new line of work; selling himself to the highest-paying customer, taking jobs that mostly request murder and espionage."**_

 _["That voice sounds like it's coming from everywhere at once."]_

 _("Is this really happening? I'm pretty sure this is a dream.")_

 _ **"Oh, no, this is quite real."**_

 _["OH SHIT, THEY CAN HEAR US!"]_

"Who are you?" I asked, searching high and low for the voice's owner. "Show yourself! You don't even wanna know what'll happen if you don't!"

 _ **"What would you do?"**_ I felt an overwhelming cold rush over my shoulder. I turned, seeing a looming shadow of a cloak. Black tendrils lapped the air around it, and within its bone-white skull mask's sockets sat two lifeless eyes. _**"Kill Death?"**_

 _(Score! I was hoping we'd get to this part!)[Shh!]_ "You're… Death? _The_ Death?"

 _ **"As opposed to any other?"**_

"No, it's just… you're not exactly what I was expecting."

 _ **"And what, pray tell, were you expecting me to be?"**_

 _("Well, a_ _guy_ _for one.")_ Right Brain was correct. I wasn't expecting the Angel of Death to be so… feminine.

It wasn't quite clear with the long, thick robe, but I'm Deadpool. I see these kinds of things. The softness of her aforementioned eyes suggested youth; ironic, seeing as she had to be older than just about anything that ever was. _[I'm not sure that's ironic. More like "contradictory."]_ The higher octaves of her voice _(Do you even know what an octave is?)[We'll look it up,]_ and the way her waist narrowed before her hips also revealed her gender. _[Up to that first meeting, I don't recall thinking about whether Death had a snake or a beaver.](Such rude imagery and we're only in the second chapter. Shame on you.)_ But, honestly, my uncanny Pool-'o-Vision was what helped me discern her as female the most. What that basically means is that Left Brain took the information he was given, and Right Brain emphasized and augmented it, more or less.

Now, again, Marvel fucked up on all accounts of this angel, so I'll approximate the image. Picture, if you will, the babe they got to play m'lady in my game with the robe and demeanor of said m'lady from the comics, plus a skull mask and a wicked scythe made of - apparently - a big-ol' backbone. Now, subtract VG Death's rack and replace it with Natalie Portman's give or take an inch, and that's basically what I was seeing in Pool-'o-Vision.

 _["She's actually not too bad,"]_ Left Brain whispered, for fear that he would be heard. _["Seven… maybe an eight."]_

 _("Nah, definitely a nine.")_

 _["Solid eight-point-five."]_

"What's that old movie?" I asked. "'The Devil Wears Gucci' or something?"

Death stopped. _**"…I beg your pardon?"**_

 _["I think it was 'Devil Wears Prada.' Not Gucci."]_

"Right, right."

 _("Why? Is it important?")_

"Well, it would have bugged me forever if I didn't get it cleared up."

 _ **"You would have the rest of eternity to recall it."**_ She raised her scythe over her head. _**"Goodbye, Wade Wilson."**_

 _("Whoa, WHOA! Back the fuck up, Death!")_

 _ **"Excuse me?"**_

"I can't be dead. There's no way! I'll tell you like I told Cappy and Stark, I've tried many things many times, but nothing does it. This is the closest I've gotten to actually dying. Ever! I guarantee my body's workin' full-time to put me back together, and I'll be outta your hair in no time. …Um… You have hair under that hood, right?"

 _["And does the carpet match the drapes?"]_

Death twitched as though I had said that out loud. She then looked into a small hand mirror she pulled from her cloak and wavered. _**"Hm… It appears that you're right, Mr. Wilson; for the moment, at least. However, I would hardly consider it working full-time. You have perhaps three minutes before you regain consciousness. Then, as you said, you'll be 'out of my hair.'"**_

"In the meantime," I said, moving myself to the kitchen, "you want something to drink? If this is supposed to be my apartment, there's bound to be some beer or something."

 _ **"…I…suppose there's no harm in having a drink with a client."**_ She stowed the mirror, conjuring in its place a full bottle of the good stuff: I'm talkin' real. Fuckin'. Johnnie Walker Diamond Jubilee: quite possibly the most expensive, delicious whiskey on the whole damn planet and then some.

I thought I felt my jaw hit the floor. _["See,_ _this_ _makes her a nine."]_

 _("Maybe nine and a half.")_

For the next few minutes, I sat in my astral apartment drinking the world's greatest alcohol with the actual grim reaper. I was pretty freakin' excited to learn that the bottle would never empty, and was completely hammered before long. I started to laugh, and Death gave me a look. _**"What are you laughing at?"**_

"I-I'm sorry," I chuckled. "It's been a whi-hile since I've been drunk, and I don' have my healin' facker here."

 _("It uzhully takesh kare've alcahol in our bloodshreem,")_ Right Brain slurred with a giggle.

 _ **"I don't see why you would indulge yourself like this. Alcohol is one of the foremost reasons people see me."**_

"'ey, Death Lady," I pointed, "why don' you get was'sed like me?"

Before she could answer me, the door opened, leading to a separate void of darkness. Death composed herself, moving toward the portal. _**"It appears I must answer your question another time, Mr. Wilson; your body has healed sufficiently for you to return."**_

"Pssh. Misser Wilson was my pop'sh name." I followed her to the exit with a smile. "III'm Deadpool. Butchu, pretty lady, c'n call me Wade."

She paused, then put her hand on my shoulder. _**"Very well,**_ _ **Wade**_ _ **. If ever you wish to speak with me again, you know how to find me. I will admit I…**_ _ **enjoyed**_ _ **this exchange; it's been too long since I've had a simple conversation."**_

"An' hey, if you ever wan' annuther, you got my number." I winked as she pushed me through the doorway.

/-/

I woke with a missing right half of my head. "Ugh…" I groaned, rising from the ground. I looked around, finding the other half in the dirt next to me. "Fuckers didn't bother to pick me up off the street."

 _["Were we dead?"]_ Left Brain asked as I pressed Right Brain back into position. _["And also drunk?"]_

"Sure felt like it." I kept screwing the removed portion of my head in place. "Right Brain, come in. Do you copy?"

 _("You need to say 'over,' 'Pool. Over.")_

"He's back." I picked up my teleporter and set about fixing it. "So, how'd we like being dead?"

 _["I think the more important question is, 'Do we want to be dead again?'"]_

 _("Honestly, it was… amazing. Never have we been at such peace as when we were staring into the eyes of Death.")_

 _["Those soft, lifeless pearls as light and comforting as a cloud in the sky."]_

I blinked. "Did I pick up the right brain? I don't remember mine being quite so… poetic."

 _["_ _I_ _didn't get cleaved off, remember? Face it, dude. She was a ten."]_


End file.
